


Collar Full of Chemistry

by dee_double_u



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dub-Con leaning towards Non-Con, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:37:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1289830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dee_double_u/pseuds/dee_double_u
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester sells his soul to save Sam, but instead of a year, he gets taken to Hell immediately. Crowley doesn't tell him that he has more in store for Dean than he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from a Panic! At the Disco song, "Collar Full". Thanks to my lovely beta reader, Tasha, for being my beta for this series.

_“Sam! Sammy!” Dean ran toward his brother, but it was too late. Sam hit the ground with a loud thud, struck by whatever that last demon had thrown at him. Dean crash landed next to him, lifting his body and putting Sam’s head in his lap, just like he used to do when they were kids._

_“Sammy, please,” he choked, a tear falling in Sam’s hair. “Please no…”_

_The demon smirked. “I’ll bring him back,” he said, a wicked grin on his face. “One one condition. You give me your soul, if you still have one that is, Winchester. Y’see, Crowley needs bodies, and I’m down my quota…”_

That’s how it started. That’s how Dean Winchester ended up crumped and naked, thrown at Crowley’s feet for the fourth time in two months. “I don’t fucking want him, I want my grail back!” The demon spat at Crowley, who just shook his head. “He doesn’t fucking do anything. He bit my goddamned dick, nearly off!”

Crowley tutted gently, throwing the gold cup at the demon. “Get out then,” he said. “And take your sodding cup with you.” The guy left, and Dean nearly sobbed in relief. He hated that demon more than the others he’d been with. He was rough and abusive, throwing Dean around and hitting him when he wouldn’t do what he said. He’d been too weak to fight back, and the idea of it nearly made him want to off himself, more than other times had.

“Get up,” Crowley said, but it wasn’t rough or mean, more a request. “You’re going to be clean if you’re in my place.” He nodded to the bathroom. “Shower, squirrel, and we’ll check your wounds.” He should have known better; Gustin was the most eager for Dean he’d seen, and the rumors he’d heard about the demon made Crowley even want to kill him, and Crowley was the King.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief, running to the shower. He stood under the spray, the dirt and other fluids washing off of him and darkening the water on the floor of the shower. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bathed-he didn’t even want to think about what was on his body. He’d had everything from wax to come to other things poured on him. The previous demon that owned him liked seeing him in pain, watching him writhe and scream until he was hoarse. It would haunt Dean’s nightmares for the rest of his life. Alistair’s torture had nothing on being sold as a sex slave.

He’d had some things happen to him, but that one was the worse. Others had just taken their pleasure in carnal ways, keeping him bound for days with sex toys pressed into him, using him for gangbangs and group fucks. He vaguely remembered being locked in a cage once, and his throat was so raw from being fucked that he was surprised he could still talk. Dean shook the images and memories away, scrubbing himself and shutting the water off after.

When he came back out, naked but clean, Crowley set about checking his bruises and cuts, and even a few burns he noticed with a grimace. “He did a number on you, squirrely boy,” Crowley said lowly, slowly healing Dean’s wounds. “I should have checked him better. I’ll kill him for damaging my property like this….”

Dean winced at the word “property”, but he knew that he couldn’t say much, since Crowley was healing him and letting him wash off the last two weeks of utter torture. “Thank you,” he offered, eyes still down. Though he hadn’t given up hope...he was almost broken. There was still a spine of steel in him that he hoped to God no one would ever try to break. He let Crowley work on healing him for a little while before holding out his wrists for the chains. He knew the drill; first the wrist chains, then the collar and chain on his neck. Then he would be dragged out to wherever Crowley was holding the next auction, where some other asshole would bid on him just to bring him back a couple weeks later, used and abused. He’d been over this, but he decided it would be different. He would stay with whoever he chose, even if he was hit every time he said no. Maybe he’d get lucky and die.

That night, he was lead out to an abandoned theatre, naked but clean, his exposed body proudly on display. He felt the eyes on him, and he’d never felt more dirty.

“For the fourth time in two months,” Crowley announced. “Dean Winchester, available to the highest bidder.” He raised a hand, and people started bidding. If Dean could take comfort in anything, it was that he was fucking expensive. People were bidding their most rare objects to have him. Everything from heirlooms to dragon eggs, even a golden goose once. Dean Winchester was worth a lot to these demons, just to say that they had him in their possession.

He listened to the bidding, eventually tuning everyone out. He barely registered anyone shouting bids, trying his best to just ignore. Maybe if he passed out, or stayed numb, no one would want him….

The only thing he heard was a door opening, someone walking in, and sitting in the back row.


	2. Liberated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets rescued-but with a price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sooooo much for the kudos and hits, guys! You make me feel awesome. Enjoy, and comments and constructive criticism is always welcome!

Sam slammed his fist on the table, rubbing his eyes. “Damn it, Dean,” he said, leaning back. “Why would he do this to me? Again?” He couldn’t understand Dean’s need to be the hero.

“Sam,” Cas started in. “Are you what people call dense?” That made Sam look over in surprise. “Dean did it to keep you from going to hell, not because he wanted to. He saved you-again-, and you still treat it like he has a hero complex. All he wants to do is help people, Sam. Can you please focus on how to get him back?”

That made Sam’s stern look break, and he looked pained for once in the last month they’d been looking. “I just want him back,” he said softly. He felt awful that Dean saved him, and he was just taking it out in anger, he knew that. He wanted to feel something other than regret. He rubbed his eyes, leaning down and pouring over another book.

Cas, on the other hand, was laying back on the bed, listening in on his angel frequency to see if anyone had heard anything. It hadn’t worked so far, all he’d heard was just normal angel blather. Then he heard something about Hell, and demons. He tuned the room out, listening carefully. Maybe, just maybe….

_‘Human trade….immoral….slaves in hell…’_

“Oh,” Cas said softly, sitting up. “Oh no.”

Sam looked up from his book, and at his curious look, Castiel frowned. “I believe I just heard that here is a human slave trade in Hell. I believe also that Dean might be a part of it, but I heard no confirmation.” His frowned deepened as he weighed the options. “If a demon could possess a hunter, he could learn everything. It would make sense for Crowley to sell him.”

At the word “sell”, Sam winced and swallowed. “So, Dean’s a s…” he looked away, choking out the word, “slave?” Castiel nodded, standing up. “Okay, so what do we do? Do we find a way to rescue him by finding someone who knows where he is? Or try to find wherever they’re selling people?”

Castiel nodded. “I think it best if I go. I can get into where ever they are, even if it’s Hell, and still be less recognizable than a Winchester.” He saw Sam nod reluctantly. “I will go and try to get Dean back. He will still be alive, as he is too precious to just kill. You stay here and see if anyone knows anything about this slave auction.” With that, he teleported out of the room, and ended up in a run down part of the next town over. He looked around, seeing numerous abandoned buildings. He closed his eyes, listening with just his hearing this time, but it was strong enough to let him hear shouting and laughing, coming from an abandoned theatre.He walked into the theatre quietly, sitting a few rows back and looking around. He saw different types of demons, most of them male, with different artifacts in their hands. So Crowley was selling people for objects. Something about that seemed worse. He looked up, and his heart stopped beating for a moment.

Dean was up there, on the stage, naked and kneeling. He looked exhausted, with bruises, cuts and burn scars on his arms, legs, and torso. He looked….wrecked was the only word that came to mind. He’d never seen Dean so low, and he never wanted to again. He heard bidding start, Crowley’s booming voice calling out different, rather rare artifacts. Dean must be popular here..the thought disgusted Cas. He was so used to seeing Dean standing tall, tough, but now he looked like he just wanted to be rid of everything. What did they do to him to make him so broken?

Suddenly eyes were upon him, and Crowley smirked. “Well well, we are graced with the presence of an angel, boys. What can we do for you, Castiel?”

That name. Castiel. Dean looked up quickly, more alert than he had been before. Cas. He’d finally come for Dean. “I wish to acquire Dean Winchester.” Dean felt like his heart had started beating again. Cas really had come for him. He knew he would have to give away something...did Cas have anything to give?

“What on earth do you have that would make me want to give him to you?” Crowley asked, smirking and chuckling. “You have-”

The room went silent. Suddenly in Cas’ hands was a sword. Not just any sword, however. The hilt was silver and gold, with a diamond at the end of the hilt. The blade was forged steel that shone in any sunlight reflection, and there was almost a glow around it. Cas looked up, approaching the stage. “Angel sword,” he offered. “My angel sword. I’ll give it to you in exchange for Dean.”

“Well,” Crowley said, walking over and touching the blade. “This is interesting…” he looked around, seeing what everyone else had to offer, then nodded. “Done.” He was greeted with shouts and protests, but one look silenced the lesser demons. “He’s yours.” He threw the leash at Cas’ feet, Dean going down with it. Cas immediately knelt down, stroking Dean’s back gently. “Not so fast,” Crowley said, making Cas stand back up. “A few things. He belongs to you, and only you. I will be checking in, of course, to see how you are...enjoying your purchase.” He smirked at that. “Now, to seal your purchase.”

Castiel nodded, leaning over, but Crowley put a hand to his lips. “I’m flattered, Wings, but not quite. Show me how you plan to use him.” He smirked, crossing his arms. “Claim him.”

Cas blinked. “I don’t understand..” Then Crowley whispered something into his ear, and his eyes got bigger. Oh no. Not this.

Dean had figured out that he picked the wrong moment to look up, because the first thing he saw in Cas’ eyes was panic. When an angel panicked, something was definitely wrong.


	3. Claimed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long! Life got in my way, sadly. Enjoy! 
> 
> Trigger warnings in this chapter: derogatory language, dub-con leaning towards non-con.

What? Dean wanted to ask. He was itching to find out what the look Cas had meant, but one look at Crowley, who was looking at him, and Dean’s stomach dropped to what felt like his feet. He just stared, shaking his head only a little, as it was cut off by a quick look. He tried looking at Cas, who was looking at the floor. That action alone, the shamed and sad look he had, was enough for Dean. They needed-needed to pass this inspection of sorts. They do the trail run, they’re free. Just like buying something new. The way he worded it to himself made his stomach turn. They were testing him like...like an appliance or a toy. He knew Crowley wasn’t doing it just for business. He was testing Cas to see if he would go through with it, or if he was just buying Dean to get him free. He looked at Cas again, whose impossibly blue eyes were trained to the floor, and his heart tugged nearly out of his chest as he sunk to his knees, looking up at Cas. “Whatever you want to do...Master.”

He last word is what choked Cas out of his stupor. Dean had said...that word, and Cas wanted to curl up in a ball. He hated this. By his Father’s name, he hated this. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t. No one was looking away, no one was telling them they didn’t have to. This was necessary. He knew it, and from the look on concentration on Dean’s face, he knew it too. “G-good,” Cas choked out, but had to steady his voice. “Good,” he repeated, clearer and in his usual gravelly voice. Usually it would have sent shivers down Dean’s spine, but not now. Not like this.

“Get up.” The order was short and stern, and Dean felt he would never get used to hearing the angel’s voice-his angel’s voice-say those things. He stood, though, and waited for something else-a touch, smack, order, something to stay busy. “Bend over that chair,” Cas said, pushing Dean in a direction and bending him over a loose-ish chair, nearly causing Dean to lose his balance. But a hand reached out to steady him-Crowley’s, he saw. Always concerned for his property.

Cas realized too late that he had nothing to ease the intrusion, and he tried to think quickly as he unbuttoned his pants. Father God, he couldn’t believe he was doing this. He’d wanted to, that wasn’t the problem. Jimmy had desires, and mix those with Castiel’s bond with Dean, and Castiel was in love and had a physical attraction to Dean Winchester. Yes, he wanted to, but not like this. Not in front of a bunch of demons, and not to mark his territory. He made several mental notes to make it up to Dean eventually, overturning the earth if he had to. For now, however, he resigned himself to just coating his fingers in saliva, then slowly pressing a single digit into Dean.

Of what seemed like months of torture, this hurt was a hurt Dean never got used to. Having technically been a gay sex virgin when he went to hell, he was broken in harshly and without remorse. Though he was never actually tight by now, it hurt so bad. He was sure he was injured somehow down there, because the pain never subsided. He kept hurting, even as he made a show of pressing back and seeming like he was begging for more, hiding the sting of tears in his eyes. He had to fight through the pain, had to…

Cas nearly stopped several times. From the clenching to the quaking, he knew this hurt Dean. He didn’t even need to ask. He could feel Dean’s pain, the feeling a rock on Cas’ chest threatening to crush his sternum. He was *hurting* Dean, his Dean. His strong, protective Dean was breaking and it was his fault. He thought he would vomit, but he kept going, working him open until he was ready. He pulled back, once again spitting in his hand and trying to get himself hard enough to fuck Dean. He tried to think of something to make him hard enough…

When he was firm enough to be able to press in he did, not wasting any time in case his erection faded as quickly as it came. He felt a tremor push its way through Dean and he paused, barely giving him two seconds to adjust before thrusting.

The pain was white-hot and searing, and Dean felt tears squeeze their way out of his closed eyes, falling to the floor. God, it hurt. Whether it was a physical pain or an emotional pain he wasn’t sure, but everything just *hurt*. This was real life, practically getting raped by his angel in front of a bunch of demons just so he could go topside. All he knew was that in his life, if he’d ever experienced real pain, this was it. He just bit his lip and moaned, however, just trying to block out the pain and the situation.

He couldn’t do it. Cas couldn’t-he couldn’t keep going. He knew logically they had to leave some how, and no one would let them leave before this was done, but he couldn’t...tears were forming behind his eyes as he thrust in, muttering a string of obscenities at Dean, partly so people could hear and partly to make it easier to disassociate himself from Dean and the pain he was causing him. After what seemed like hours, Castiel finally pulled out, coming in spurts on Dean’s lower back. He heard groans and gasps. the cheers and nods of approval. “Good to go,” said Crowley, nodding at Cas. “Good show, feathers. Do it again for us some time.”

Cas wasted no time, wrapping his arms around Dean and teleporting them back to the hotel room, into the bathroom. He figured Dean would want a hot shower…”Dean?” He asked softly, frowning when Dean winced and flinched away from his touches. Castiel was able to take a good look at his body, and what he saw filled him with a white-hot rage. Burn scars and cut scars littered his hunter’s body, along with mottled bruises on his back and legs that looked like they’d been there for a while. “Dean,” he whispered, rage sated and replaced with an overwhelming urge to care for Dean and take him far away, safe from everyone.

Dean couldn’t tell you how he got back to what looked like a hotel, or what anyone was saying. He was half unconscious, leaning against the sink for support. Being teleported, he guessed, always made him feel rickety and made his head spin, and the added humiliation and pain he’d endured caught up to him, and he sunk to the floor, blacking out.


End file.
